


Goldilocks

by eleanor_lavish



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Nightmares, Overwrought Bullshit, Pre-Slash, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 13:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac never slept well before the bite. And now, he’s got a whole other set of problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goldilocks

Before the bite, before the kanima and Matt and hunters and alphas and goddamned Gerard Argent, Isaac was already afraid of things that go bump in the night. He knew that all it took for an evening to tip from just fine into blind terror was a spilled glass, or a misheard word, or... nothing at all. Before the bite, Isaac spent hours in his room, staring at his ceiling, muscles tensed as he listened for his dad to come home. Those nights were better than the ones spent shivering, scratching at the insides of an old freezer with too-human fingers. Those nights sleep would never come at all, as much as he prayed for it. And the dreams were... not worth remembering.

Anyway, Isaac never slept well before the bite. And now, he’s got a whole other set of problems.

*

The train station is cold at night. Isaac feels it down to his bones, even though his new werewolf body runs hotter than his human body ever did. Erica and Boyd feel it too, the three of them wrapped in leather coats. The first nights they spend together as a pack, they are wary of each other, but as the weeks turn to months, they all orbit each other closer and closer, until they sleep pressed against each other in the old train car, an old mattress on the floor and a pile of blankets and pillows tossed haphazardly around.

It’s nice, safe in a way Isaac isn’t used to and he’s not sure he trusts. 

It doesn’t last long.

“Come here,” Erica says to Boyd one night as Isaac lays curled up on his side. He’s close to sleep, but not there yet, and Erica knows that. He knows that she does. “He won’t care,” she purrs and Isaac squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the bulk of Boyd climb onto the mattress. Boyd’s quiet, as always, but Erica isn’t. She gasps and mewls and moans until Isaac’s whole body is hot-cold from a terrible combination of arousal and embarrassment. They’re throwing off heat, enough that Isaac feels stifled by the covers, but he just burrows further inside, praying for them to finish soon.

They pass out quickly after, but Isaac lays awake for hours.

“Hey, you could join us next time,” Erica says the next morning, grinning her shark’s smile at Isaac over a greasy breakfast of sausage and eggs. Isaac glares at her but underneath he flushes. Boyd’s forehead creases in distaste, and Isaac just flips Erica off. 

“You couldn’t handle me, baby,” he leers. The next night, he takes a pile of the blankets and sets up on the other side of the train car from them. He can still hear them. He wishes it would stop.

Three weeks later, Boyd and Erica leave, and Isaac stays behind. 

*

The loft isn’t as cold but it’s not long on creature comforts. Peter found a beat-up sofa somewhere, and Derek’s bed is pretty big, but with a mattress he picked up from a second hand store. Isaac sleeps on a pull-out futon upstairs, all his worldly possessions in a two-drawer nightstand he salvaged from the side of the road.

He has nightmares. Having them isn’t new, but the terrors in them are - arrows and fire, sharp claws and green scales. Erica. Boyd. Gerard Argent. His dad is there too, lurking in the background, half his face torn off by the kanima, laughing as the Argents corner Isaac and watch him burn.

“Derek?” he says one night, standing at the foot of Derek’s bed. He feels like a total loser, a little kid who can’t handle his bad dreams, but they always get worse as the full moon approaches, and the moonlight is flooding the loft tonight. Somewhere in him Isaac knows it’s not a little kid thing, it’s deeper than that. It’s the wolf part of him, seeking comfort from his Alpha, seeking protection, even from dreams.

“I heard you screaming,” Derek says, his voice scratchy in the dark. “Just get in,” he sighs, and shoves over.

Isaac settles gingerly on the very edge of the bed, pulls the covers up, and closes his eyes. If he’s waiting for comfort from the other side of the bed, he’s disappointed - Derek doesn’t reach out. Derek barely moves. Isaac lays awake long enough that he can read through Derek’s even breaths. Derek isn’t sleeping either. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I can go back -”

“Just go to sleep, Isaac,” Derek says, angry and tired at once. Isaac manages to drift off as the sun starts to rise. He’s pretty sure Derek never does.

It happens a few times after that, where the dreams get bad enough that Isaac seeks out Derek in the middle of the night. Derek never turns him away but the part deep in Isaac looking for comfort is never satisfied. Derek doesn’t sleep, not when Isaac’s there at least; he just lays there, stiff and unmoving. Isaac’s angry about it at first, at himself and Derek and his dad and Matt and every Argent that’s ever lived. 

But when he sees Derek, hollow-eyed and rough around the edges every morning, he wonders what kind of dreams Derek is hiding from, wonders if his demons might even be worse than Isaac’s.

*

Isaac cried on his walk over from Derek’s, but the rain washed it away. “Can I stay here?” he asks, dripping wet in the doorway of Scott’s bedroom. It smells like teenage boy and Hot Pockets and hair gel, like _Scott_ , and Isaac feels the tears threaten to spill again. He swallows them down as Scott blinks up at him in confusion.

“Dude, what happened?” Scott asks and Isaac blinks at the floor. His shoes are making damp impressions on the carpet.

“Just for a few days, until I figure something out,” Isaac says in lieu of answering.

“Yeah, of course,” Scott says, “come on, gimme that.” Scott takes Isaac’s bag and steers him toward the bathroom. “Towels are under the sink - you just warm up and I’ll tell my mom you need to stay.” Isaac wants to tell Scott not to, wants to tell him he’ll just hide out, he won’t be any bother, he’ll be gone tomorrow. He wants to tell Scott that his mom won’t say yes - why the hell would she? - but he’s so cold he’s shivering, and Scott’s already closing the door gently behind him. “Mom,” Scott yells, barreling down the stairs. Isaac closes his eyes. A nice warm shower sound pretty good, and maybe she’ll at least let him stay for dinner.

When Isaac comes out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, Scott is waiting with a pair of warm sweatpants and a Beacon Hills High t-shirt. “Your stuff’s all wet,” he says. “You can borrow mine. I put your clothes in the dryer.” 

“Thanks,” he manages, a little stunned, and Scott reaches out, wraps a warm, strong hand around his arm. 

“Dude, what the fuck _happened_ ,” he asks again, kind and worried.

“I- Derek says I can’t stay there anymore,” he whispers, and holy hell, it hurts more to say it than he thought it would. 

“Like, for no reason?” Scott says, incredulous. Isaac thinks of Derek’s cold face, of the shower of glass as the cup shattered above his head. He just shrugs. “Okay, Derek is an asshole, we already knew that,” Scott tells him, and Isaac wishes his smile felt right on his face.

“Sorry, I know this is a lot to ask,” Isaac and Scott just scoffs. 

“Whatever, like Stiles didn’t sleep over for most of eighth grade,” he grins, and when Isaac’s smile comes out wobbly again, Scott leans in and hugs him tight, oblivious to the fact that Isaac is practically naked. “Mom’s heating up some lasagna, I’ll bring it up.” He bounds out of the room and Isaac sits down hard on Scott’s bed. His hands are shaking. 

Isaac eats in Scott’s room, legs crossed on the floor, his whole body warm and dry Scott’s clothes. The lasagna is good - filling and warm and meaty. Scott sits behind him on his bed doing his reading for English class, his legs stretched out so that Isaac could rest his head against them if he tipped it back. He doesn’t.

He finishes the plate and places it gently on Scott’s desk. “You want more?” Scott asks, and when Isaac looks up, Scott’s watching him with warm, worried eyes. 

“Nah, I’m good,” he answers. He’s full and warm and feels like maybe this is okay, even if it’s just for a night. He stifles a yawn behind his fist. “Maybe I should just turn in,” he says, even though it’s barely 10 o’clock.

Scott shows him to the guest room where there’s an old twin bed with a sagging mattress and a wooden dresser that’s covered in photos of the McCall family, mostly baby Scott. “Man, you were a cute kid,” Isaac says, grinning as he picks up a picture of six-year-old Scott on a bike complete with training wheels. “How many teeth were you _missing_ in this? Did you have to eat through a straw?”

“Shut up,” Scott laughs, bumping his shoulder. “Look, I’ll be right through the wall if you need anything,” he says, still smiling but serious. “You don’t even have to get up - I’ll totally hear you.” Isaac glances at him. 

“No, I’m - I’ll be fine,” he stammers, cheeks pink, and Scott nods and slaps him once on the shoulder before leaving Isaac alone.

He pulls the covers back and slides in to the twin bed, turning off the light on the nightstand. He could probably use another blanket, but he doesn’t ask Scott. He doesn’t make a sound.

*

The world is dark, a jumble of dark shapes and sharp fangs. The alphas are here - they got past the alarms, they got past Derek and Peter and Scott, Scott, where is Scott? Isaac can’t see him, can’t find him anywhere, and he’s running, running, with the Alphas right on his heels. He can hear them gaining, can hear Deucalion’s sharp laugh. When a hand closes over his shoulder, fingers sharpened into claws, Isaac looks down and he recognizes the hand. It’s Boyd. “Your turn,” Boyd growls, shaking him, and Isaac opens his mouth to scream - 

“ISAAC,” Scott shakes him again, his voice resonating through Isaac’s whole body. Isaac bolts up in the bed, sweating through Scott’s thin t-shirt. “Isaac,” Scott says again, leaning over him. “Hey, it’s okay. It was just a bad dream.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Isaac gasps. He can’t look at Scott, can’t believe he’s doing this _again_ , that he can’t make it _stop_. “Did I - was I screaming?” he asks, “I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_.” Scott frowns at him.

“No, dude, you weren’t screaming, but I could hear your heart racing a mile a minute. Thought you were being silently killed by something,” Scott sits down hard on the bed. He’s in baggy shorts and nothing else. There’s a pillow crease down one side of his face. He looks like a guy who was sound asleep until five minutes ago, when he… when he heard Isaac’s heart and it _woke him up_. “Scared the crap out of me.”

Isaac glances over at him, mortified but also profoundly grateful. “Sorry,” he says again, then, “Shit, what time is it?”

Scott rubs his hand over his face. “Four am,” he yawns. 

“Oh God,” Isaac says, and Scott leans into him.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. My dreams aren’t always sunshine and supermodels. I mean, once I had one where my mom spent an hour yelling at me for shedding on the furniture.” Isaac snorts, a grin pushing through the residual terror. He’s safe, he’s with Scott - there aren’t any monsters coming to get him, at least tonight.

“Thanks,” he whispers, and Scott nods against his shoulder. 

“Any time,” he murmurs, and Isaac nudges him a little. Scott pushes into his shoulder harder, like he’s actively snuggling, and Isaac’s glad his heartrate is already up, or Scott would be able to hear the way it skitters in his chest.

“You know you have your own bed,” Isaac reminds him, trying for sarcastic and failing miserably when his voice wobbles.

“Yeah, but it’s so _faaar_ ,” Scott whines. “I’ll just crash in with you, dude,” he glances up at Isaac and smiles softly. “Then we can fight those dreams off together, right?”

“Right?” Isaac answers, his eyebrows raised, and Scott just laughs and pushes him back down to the mattress, crawling up the bed and kicking his way under the covers. Isaac turns toward the wall and Scott turns the other way. Scott’s back pushes flush against Isaac’s in the small bed, his body turned toward the wide expanse of the room, the window, the door, like a guard on watch.

Isaac’s whole body relaxes a fraction, humming and thrumming with a feeling of _rightness_ that he hasn’t felt since he was a little kid. _This is safe_ , he thinks, _This is good,_ and his heartbeat slows down to match Scott’s. “‘Night,” Scott whispers when Isaac can feel them in sync, each beat matched with one of Scotts, steady and strong.

“‘Night,” Isaac whispers back in the dark, and he closes his eyes, and he sleeps without dreaming.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ISAAC/SCOTT PORN, but then Isaac really just wanted to sleep. Not that I blame him! Next time, though, there will be porn, I swear to _fucking god_.


End file.
